Long Sleep
by Long Lost Intentions
Summary: Charlie has finally done the unthinkable. She thought she could handle it herself, but now she's back at the Bunker after definitely not handling it. They can't heal her, but can they at least help her get some sleep? (Takes place immediately after Pac-Man Fever S8E20)
1. Tired

There was a knock at the door, one tentative knock followed by a pause, and two more resigned knocks as though the guest had started before they meant to. The problem was, nobody knocked at the Bunker. Only a select few were supposed to even know it was there. Sam whipped his head up from his book on the table in front of him, shifting his gaze briefly at his brother then to the source of the hollow thuds. He slid the knife off the table into his hand, concealing it behind his leg as he moved as quietly to the door as he could (it was surprisingly difficult not to stumble into anything). He could feel Dean's eyes boring into his back as he approached the door. He tried to make his voice as gruff as possible, which wasn't easy as sick as he was.

"Who's it?," it was a long shot, but maybe someone had found their way in by mistake. No answer, he readied his knife and cracked it open lightly. "What do you want?"

"Um..." the voice, light and nervous. A flash of red. Was that...? He threw the door open, knife bared, making Charlie jump back in surprise.

"Charlie?" he said with confusion. Dean jumped up from his chair and went over to the door.  
"What's up? You never told us you were gonna stop by, last time we saw you you were headed... Where, the hospital?" Sam continued. Charlie tried a weak smile and laugh, a nervous habit that never got kicked, couldn't be kicked, because really, she was always nervous.  
"Yeah uh, I was. I did, I mean. I just, um... She... I..." Charlie started but the words didn't come out. She hadn't told them she would pull the plug, she wasn't even sure she would do it until she got there. She had a feeling Dean suspected it, and judging by the way he was studying her now he was figuring it out. She was stiff as a board, working hard to seem relaxed, too hard. Working not to give anything away because it felt stupid to break down now. She thought she was fine, that she'd already grieved and really if there was anything left she could handle it herself. She wasn't supposed to stay in one place, she had a "2-month rule" that applied to going back anywhere once she'd left. But then his face shifted subtly and he tilted his head slightly.  
"Quit playing the game...?" he asked lowly, narrowing his eyes. Her resolve crumbled and she wiped her sleeved over her blurring vision. She felt stupid for still crying, like she should be used to this by now, but she'd spent forever convincing herself her mom wasn't really gone and now she had no excuses. Dean sighed a quiet curse and tugged her against him, putting his arms around her and letting her hide her face while Sam looked on, working out what had happened.  
"Did she...?"Sam started but she shook her head, clearing up her face and making her voice work.  
"I... I let her go," she tried to sound decisive and strong, but she was mostly trying to shut down the guilt telling her she'd just killed her again.  
Back in the Bunker Charlie, now with mostly dried eyes, tossed her backpack tiredly on the floor and hunched over the table darkly. Dean dropped a glass of whiskey in front of her, which she grabbed onto as if it were keeping her grounded to the earth but didn't drink. They sat with her quietly until Sam noticed her breathing had slowed, then they both started when she jolted awake, blinking around for a confused couple of seconds.  
"Bad dream?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised. She sighed and nodded, feeling distinctly pathetic and rubbing her face.  
"Yeah that's been happening a lot..." she responded.  
"How much is a lot?" Sam asked suspiciously. She shrugged, trying to avoid answering but it was clear they wouldn't have it.  
"Uh... Mostly whenever I try to sleep," she pretended to be casual, but suddenly the lack of sleep was obvious in her voice.  
"Wait, try? Exactly how much sleep have you gotten the past 2 days?" Dean pressed. $% shrugged.  
"Few hours... Maybe."

"So you just stopped trying?" Sam asked incredulously.  
"Sometimes I pass out on accident for a couple minutes?" she offered in return, "Figured it would work itself out," she said, sighing again and rubbing her eyes.  
"Yeah and we all know that's crap," Dean rolled his eyes and took a sip of his own drink. She shrugged.  
"I'm out of ideas."  
"Yeah well not sleeping isn't an option, trust me on that one," Sam insisted.  
"Well," she punctuated with a slap of her hands on the table, "When you figure out another one let me know."

There was something comforting about the three of them sitting at the table laptops out, a weird kind of solidarity. Neither of the boys asked her stupid questions, like 'How are you?', or made her talk much about it at all. The cops did that after the accident and it was the worst part. People who don't even know you, pretending to care about you, asking you stupid questions when all you want to do is crawl into a hole and it should be so obvious. Maybe it was experience, she knew surprisingly little about them for how often she sought out their company, but she did know they were parentless as well, and they were always on the run. Maybe she was better suited to their life than she thought.

Carefully, quietly, Sam and Dean tried to sneak from the table, making sure not even their chairs made any noise. Charlie was slumped onto her laptop, face in her arms and unresponsive. They were fairly certain all she really needed was a quiet place to sleep, who knew what kind of dives she'd been staying at. The thought creeped them out. It seemed like they might get away, and Sam was considering carrying her to one of the spare rooms when she startled again, this time accidentally lashing out and swiping the untouched glass of whiskey off the table. She cringed as it shattered on the floor and looked over the edge tiredly at the mess.  
"Shit... Sorry," she said quietly, standing.  
"Don't worry about it," Dean pushed her lightly back into her seat and headed for the kitchen, coming back with a towel over his shoulder. She let out a laugh and tried to stifle it, but couldn't. He gave her a funny look but the corners of his mouth turned up.

"You look like a bartender. You'd be a good bartender," she explained.  
"Dude I think she's loopier than you," he tossed at Sam, then put on what he assumed was a good bartender face, "Can I get you another drink?"

This almost sent her into another fit of laughter but she managed to fight it off, shaking her head.  
"I'm gonna get drunk on RomComs, B movie horror, and chocolate," Charlie replied, hitching her bag over her shoulder.

"You know Sam loves RomComs," Dean flashed a signature grin at his brother, "and he'd just LOVE to take the rest of the night off." He pretended not to notice the pointed stare accompanied with a sigh. Charlie looked between them, eyebrows raised, before following Sam down the hallway to the guest bedroom she'd taken the last time she was here. She eyed him and pulled her fingers through her hair.

"Do you really like-" she began but he interrupted with a laugh and a shake of the head.

"He's trying to make me take it easy so he can do the heavy lifting," he replied as he turned on the TV for her, putting in the movie she tossed him. She climbed into bed and looked at him hopefully.

"Well... You wanna kick it for the night anyways?"

"I... Yeah, sure," he conceded. Maybe relaxing would help her sleep, and if not...

"Sleeping pills? You keep sleeping pills in the guest bedroom?"

"We figure if anyone's found their way to us they'll probably need them..."

"Okay but I've already tried sleeping pills."

"Yeah, well, humor me," he insisted, sidling next to her on the bed.


	2. Guilty

Charlie was alone by the third time she tried to sleep and woke up again, by the sixth time it was early morning and she gave up altogether. She stumbled tiredly down the hall, taking a couple wrong turns before remembering where the kitchen was. She startled when she turned the corner and saw Sam already at the coffee maker. He looked almost as exhausted as she felt.

"Any luck?" he asked, handing her a mug he'd intended for himself. Charlie took it with a groan then decided he deserved a little more and took a sip to find her tongue.

"Not unless you count 5 minute naps every couple hours..."

Sam drank from his own cup and ran his hand over his face.

"Alright, plan B. You're coming with me on my morning run."

"Are you kidding? Can you even run like this?" she gestured towards his entire body with her hand.

"Alright, slow walk. Maybe if we wear you out today you'll crash."

"Right..."

The air outside was warmer than either of them expected. Their footsteps sunk into the soft dirt as Sam led the way past the cars towards a familiar path. They walked in synchronized silence for a few minutes, trying to blink away the sleep.

"So... How are you, besides the not sleeping? I mean... I know life pretty much sucks right now but how are you handling it?" Sam asked with hesitation. Silence encapsulated them again while Charlie tried to find the words. It stretched on and she considered just not answering, she knew Sam would drop it (for now), but for once in a very long time she felt safe in the peace of the wooded trail. Safety was not something she ever expected to feel around either of these two, and in the aftermath of losing her mother when she felt unexpectedly vulnerable, she appreciated it.

"I feel... Bad," she said stupidly. She rubbed her face and tried again.

"It feels like the first time, you know? Like... Guilty." She took a minute to make sure her voice was steady before pushing on. Sam was still listening, watching the ground pass under their feet, which was good because she wasn't paying any attention to where they were walking.

"I feel like I just kinda gave up on her."

"Did the doctors say there was any chance of her waking up?"  
Charlie shook her head and plucked a leaf off a passing tree and started to dissect it.

"Actually they made it pretty clear she probably wasn't waking up... But they also said she'd die right after being admitted so I thought maybe there's a chance, you know? Besides, I'm kinda the reason she's – she was - in there. "

Sam knew better than to argue, opting instead to stare at the ground and search for the words between the leaves. Finally he cleared his throat, startling Charlie out of her own daze.

"Did Dean ever tell you how our mom died?" he asked. Charlie looked over tentatively.

"Uh, sort of? I mean I know... I know she was killed by a demon."

"Yeah well, did he tell you that demon was after me?"

"Weren't you, like, still in diapers?"

"Yeah, still pretty tiny. So, mom hears me crying, comes in to see what's up and..." he waves his hands to gesture she knows the rest. She let out a long breath.

"Jeez, dick move."

He huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, and I spent so long feeling bad about it. Like, there should have been something I could have done, or not done. Like it was my fault."

Charlie looked at him incredulous and appalled.

"What? That's stupid!"

"I know, right?!" he agreed with a smile.

"Blaming an infant for crying is like -" she threw up her arms trying to find words for something equally as asinine.

"Like blaming a 12-year old for wanting her parents when she's scared," he suggested firmly. The footsteps next to him stopped and he finally turned to look at her directly. She was staring at the empty space with an unreadable expression. At last she pushed past the elephant between them and they continued their walk without another word.

Dean turned in his seat, coffee in hand, as the door opened.

"You're not gonna get any better if you keep waking up at the asscrack of dawn," he said, frowning.

"I'm pretty sure this thing kicking my ass doesn't care what time I wake up," Sam shot back impatiently. He nodded towards the open laptop in front of his brother. "Isn't it a bit early for porn?"

"You're hilarious," Dean muttered, taking another sip of coffee and leaning forward to read, " 'Prescott Pawn Shop Panic! String of unsolved deaths surrounding pawn shops all over the Prescott area have unsettled locals.' Uh, locked doors, no sign of breaking and entering. Usual M.O." He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Pawn shops? So, what, more cursed objects?" Sam suggested, crossing his arms. Dean shrugged.

"Only one way to find out. Up for a trip to Arizona?"

"What the hell is up with you guys?" Dean asked when, for the third stop on their drive, Sam and Charlie hopped out of the car and Charlie sluggishly made a round around the parking lot, after some prodding.

"I'm thinking maybe if she's worn out enough she'll sleep tonight," Sam sighed, watching her go into the convenience store.

"Look, this might be one of those things we gotta wait out," Dean replied. "She's going through a ton of crap and-"  
"We gotta try something, man, she can't do this forever. We owe her this much at least." Charlie returned and climbed in the back, and he reached back and plucked the energy drink out of her hands before she could drink earning him an exasperated look.

"You wish."

The motel room was dim and musty smelling, and the sound of the freeway was close by.

"Feel like I'm gonna wake up in the tub with a missing kidney," Dean grimaced, looking around.

"Hey you remember that commercial where they took a blacklight into a hotel and-" Sam started with a grin before being shoved onto one of the beds.

"Okay shut up right now unless you want me to puke on you."

"I'll probably regret this but I'll take the couch..." Charlie said.

"You should probably hold on to this," Dean strolled over and offered her a short knife, but she held up a hand.

"Oh! Actually, I have -" she tossed her bag on the couch and started unloading. A laptop, some clothes, a set of keys, her phone, but it struck him that something seemed to be missing that he remembered her carrying the day she left for the hospital. His thoughts were distracted when she pulled out a familiar blade.

"You let me borrow it last time and I, uh, kind of kept it."

The boys crawled into bed, nearly collapsing and passing out almost instantly. Charlie sighed and tried not to nestle too deep into the questionable couch for another sleepless night.


End file.
